


The Whole of the World

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Smut, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7184615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fire_Sign was writing the amazing <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6528130">Fear Not the Bugle</a> (affectionately known as “Squirrel”), we got into a discussion about Jack and Phryne’s actual wedding night. She was so focused on the character development that she didn’t want to write wedding night smut, so I volunteered to write it for her. It’s a little late (sorry about that, those of you who are reading Bugle as it posts), but here it is—Jack and Phryne’s wedding night, a missing scene from <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6528130/chapters/15546916">Chapter 19</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whole of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fear Not The Bugle](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6528130) by [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign). 



Jack and Phryne bade goodbye to their wedding guests in a sort of reverse receiving line—luncheon at the Windsor had been lovely, as always, though it couldn’t hold a candle to Mr Butler’s meals. Phryne told him so as he came to enfold her hand in both of his, his rules about service suspended for a moment as he wished her many happy returns. She had similar exchanges with each of their guests—the whole of her Wardlow family was there, and each one had a kiss or a handshake and some kind words for her.

In every lull, her eyes had strayed to Jack, so handsome in his gray suit and red tie, the glint of the tie tack he wore in lieu of a wedding ring sending a surprising shaft of feeling through her. She hadn’t expected it to matter, this marriage—after all, they had been married in all but the paperwork for years now—but at least in this moment, she found herself to be happy in her claim on him.

Jack accepted his own good wishes from their friends and family, but his eyes moved to Phryne as each one passed him. He could hardly wait to get her alone. He smiled, admiring the way her red-painted lips were the perfect foil for her red tweed suit; the ivory of her soft blouse flowing at the V at the suit’s neckline complemented the pale skin of her neck. He caught a flash off of her ring as she grasped Jane by the shoulders to hug her, laughing, and the contentment that he’d felt in the car on the way to the courthouse surged through him like a tide in his veins. He hadn’t expected marriage to Phryne to feel so very right—he’d been living as her husband for years, and he’d been absolutely content in their arrangement—but today felt just a little different.

He couldn’t wait to get her upstairs, and he could tell she felt the same. Throughout luncheon, they’d touched each other. Casually, some of it, like the stroke of a hand as she asked him to pass the salt or the press of their shoulders as they listened to one of the others speak. Some of it had been less casual; he’d stroked her thigh beneath the tablecloth, she’d pressed her breast to his arm when she leaned in to kiss his cheek. He wasn’t aroused to the point of embarrassment at this moment, but it wouldn’t take much, he knew.

Mairi was the last one to bid them farewell; she was taking Anthony home to Wardlow for the night so that Jack and Phryne could stay at the Windsor.

“I won’t embarrass ye, Jackie, but you’ve got a good ‘un there,” she said, as Phryne lifted Ant into her arms, speaking quietly to the boy, whose miniature gray fedora was, as always, perched on his head.

“Which one?” Jack asked with a smile.

“The both of ‘em,” she retorted, laughing. “Ye’re happy, and that warms me.”

Jack enfolded his mother in his arms in a rare hug. “Thanks, mum.”

“Right then,” Mairi’s voice was brisk, and Jack knew that she was trying to cover her emotion. “Laddie, give yer Mims and Dack a kiss and let’s get to the gardens, shall we?” She’d told him that she planned a day out with the boy, hoping to wear him out so that the evening without Jack and Phryne would be easier.

Anthony and Phryne both looked at Mairi. “Kerl?” Ant’s suddenly interested gaze went back to Phryne, and when she didn’t immediately look back at him, he laid a small hand on her cheek to turn her head. “See kerl, Mims?”

“You might at that, darling,” she said, laughing.

“Dack! Kerl!”

“An excellent idea, Ant,” he said, taking the boy from Phryne. “You and Mairi should keep a count, all right? And look for pink flowers as well.” Ant had been learning his colors, and so far, pink was a favorite.

“Ping. Kerl. Yeh.” Ant nodded solemnly, accepting his assignment. Jack hugged him quickly and set him down.

“Let’s go, then, lad,” Mairi said. “Maybe we’ll see if there’s an ice cream man too, eh?”

“Yay!” Ant smiled up at Jack’s mother, taking her hand. “Bye! Bye Dack! Bye Mims!” He waved a pudgy hand, all smiles as he followed her out of the hotel lobby.

Jack stepped close to Phryne as they watched him go. He slid a hand around her waist and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Thank goodness they’re all gone. I’m _exhausted_.”

“You poor darling,” Phryne crooned, turning to wrap her arms around his waist, her eyes laughing up at him. “We should put you to bed.”

“Oh yes,” he growled, his smile turning wicked. “We definitely should.”

With a tilt of his head, he turned and took her hand to lead her to the elevator, where the operator stood at attention, looking very smart in his blue coat with its silver braid. Phryne pulled him aside as Jack stepped into the box; with a whispered word in the young man’s ear, she pressed a folded pound note into his hand. He flashed a grin at her and nodded, turning to step through a door that led to the servant’s hallways and, presumably, a staircase that would take him up to meet them on the top floor.

Jack raised his eyebrows as he saw the young man step away, and he licked his lips as Phryne stepped into the elevator, pulling the ornately carved outer door with its small stained-glass window closed behind her. She turned to close the half-width inner doors as well, then back to Jack, who pressed the button for the fourth floor even as he reached for her.

Their mouths met, the low-key arousal that they both had been feeling since luncheon ramping up almost immediately in an unexpectedly desperate kiss. Their hands skimmed over each other’s bodies, one of Jack’s sliding into the neckline of Phryne’s jacket to cup her breast over her silky blouse and the other dropping to her ass, squeezing as he pulled her against him. Phryne reached one hand up to slide it into the short, soft hair at the back of his head, her fingers dislodging his carefully pomaded waves; her other hand traced the waistband of his trousers under the edge of his waistcoat, fiddling with the buttons of his braces before dropping to grip his buttock.

 _Ping._ The soft sound of the elevator as it passed the next floor echoed in the small space along with their excited breathing.

Jack moaned softly, his mouth greedily feeding at hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth, searching for the flavor that was hers alone. He detected the champagne they’d both drunk with their lunches, and the remaining flavors of the pavlova they’d been served for dessert, and then, under those, _her_.

_Ping._

He licked at her inner lips as his hand on her breast dropped to the buttons on her jacket. Drawing away slightly, he met her eyes as he began to undo them; she watched, arching her back to press her hips against his hardness.

_Ping._

Jack’s hand moved to the buttons that marched down the front of her calf-length skirt; her jacket was hanging open over her fine silk blouse, and her hand had come around to cup him through his trousers. He unfastened the first button of her skirt, and she gasped out his name.

_Ping._

The elevator stopped, and they both froze. Drawing in a deep breath, Jack stepped back. He reached to button his jacket, hoping to hide the erection that was now unlikely to be missed. Phryne pulled the two sides of her jacket together and reached for a handkerchief to quickly wipe the waxy residue of her lipstick from his mouth; Jack took it from her and returned the favor, his eyes flashing at the image she made with her lipstick smeared and her jacket undone. With a nod, he reached to open the inner doors; as he did so, the outer door opened to reveal the young elevator operator standing at attention outside, his eyes carefully looking across the open door rather than directly at them.

“Good man,” Jack rumbled as Phryne preceded him out of the elevator.

“Happy to be of assistance, sir,” the young man murmured, smiling slightly as he caught Jack’s eye.

With a grin, Jack set a hand on the small of Phryne’s back and they set off down the hall to their door. This level of the Windsor was all suites; as they walked down the open corridor that stretched to either side of the central elevator lobby, there were two doors on each side and another at the far end. Phryne made a beeline for the door at the end of the hall. She pulled the key out of her jacket pocket and fitted it into the lock, sending a sultry glance over her shoulder at Jack as she pushed the door open, her hand reaching for his as she stepped inside.

Jack stepped in behind her without letting go of her hand; he pushed the door closed, then set his back to the wall beside it, reeling her in until she was pressed against him.

“Now, where were we?”

“Right about here,” she whispered, her hand sliding to squeeze his cock through his trousers.

“Oh, of course,” he rumbled against her lips. “I remember now.” He crushed his mouth to hers, his hands pushing her jacket off her shoulders and coming back around to press against her breasts, manipulating her still-hard nipples through the softness of her silk blouse.

She moaned, her hands working at his trouser fastenings so that she could push them inside to pull him out, stroking him with both hands as her mouth worked on his.

Jack gave her breasts a final squeeze, then dropped his hands to begin working at the buttons of her skirt. He undid the first several, then pushed the red tweed down and over her hips; Phryne stepped out, kicking it aside. He growled as he examined what she still wore—blouse over camiknickers, garter belt supporting fine silk stockings, and bright red mary janes. He couldn’t wait to get inside her; his hands slid under the hem of her camiknickers, searching for the buttons that would hold them closed between her legs. When his hand touched her, Phryne gasped his name—he forgot about the buttons and turned his palm, his fingers slipping in the damp heat between her thighs. He caressed her, his fingers finding her clit and dipping inside her body, back and forth until she was shaking with arousal.

“Please tell me you have your family planning in place,” he said against her mouth as her hand on his cock began to speed up, her thumb sliding over its head with every stroke.

She nodded wordlessly, her eyes half-shut with arousal, her attention on what their hands were doing.

“Thank god.” He pulled his hand away, setting his hands on her waist, and spun her around to put her back against the wall. When he lifted her up, she hopped, helping him get her into position, then wrapped her legs around his waist. She wrapped one arm around his neck as she pushed the crotch of her camiknickers aside and positioned his cock against her opening. With a grunt, Jack pushed, seating himself fully within her in a single thrust.

Phryne’s head fell back, her eyes closing. “Ohhh, god, Jack,” she moaned.

“Hang on, love.” Pinning her to the wall with his hips, he shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall unheeded behind him, then tugged at the knot of his tie and undid the first two buttons of his shirt.

Phryne helped, her hands stroking his shoulders and arms; she could feel him inside her, her blood throbbing against his impaling length.

“Better,” he mumbled. “Ready?”

“More than,” she replied, one hand reaching to grasp the back of his neck, the other curling around his bicep as he set his hands on her hips again. He smirked as he lowered his mouth to hers and began to thrust. He wasn’t particularly gentle, his hips slamming into hers with each push and pull of his cock, and his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks. She loved every second, and showed him so by returning his passionate kisses with her own, her nails digging into his biceps and her hand fisting in his hair.

Pulling her hips close, he took a shuffling step back, so that her shoulders pressed to the wall and his cock pushed along the front wall of her passage with every hard thrust. She pulled one leg up higher, and he shifted his grip to reach beneath it, pushing her knee up so that it was draped over his bent elbow, opening her up to him. His adjusted angle had pulled her hand from his hair, so now she grasped the shoulder hole of his waistcoat and hung on.

“Fuuuccck, Phryne.” He bent his knees and continued to pound into her, throwing his head back.

Phryne watched him as his color rose, the veins in his neck bulging with effort and his nostrils flaring. She loved all of the aspects of him—she’d made a study of all of the tiny expressions he used day-to-day—and this look, when she knew that his control was about to shatter, was one of her favorites.

“I’m close, Phryne,” he moaned, his head lifting so that his eyes met hers.

She nodded, biting her lip as she took his meaning. She loved the feel of him plunging into her body, but she was ready to come too. She forced the hand gripping at his waistcoat to open—that was harder than she’d thought it would be—and slid it down to touch herself, her fingers fluttering over her clit and dipping down to slide along his length as he moved.

He groaned. “I’m coming, Phryne…”

Phryne’s fingers on her clit moved faster and faster until she came, crying out with her pleasure; his body spasmed, his hips slamming one last time into her body, his hard length jerking inside her as he came. As they shook, Jack stepped close, pushing her back against the wall again. He let her leg slide down to the floor and wrapped her in his arms, his mouth seeking hers.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” he said, his voice hoarse, “but I _really_ like this suite.”

Phryne snorted out a laugh, her arms tightening around him. “Just wait till you see the rest, Jack. There’s even a _bed._ ” She made her voice low and sultry. “With _pillows_ …”

“Oh, well, if there are pillows,” he said, chuckling against her lips as he kissed her once more, then disengaged his body from hers. Making sure she was steady on her feet, he tucked himself into his trousers, then bent over to pick up their jackets and her skirt. “Lead the way, Miss Fisher.”

Phryne gave him an unreadable look.

“What?”

“Nothing, Jack,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “It’s just…” she took his hand to lead him through a door to their left, directly into the bedroom.

“Phryne?” Jack laid their clothes on the bed and turned to her. “Is everything all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Oh, no! I’m fine, Jack.” Her eyes searched his face. “You just… called me Miss Fisher.”

“Should I not have?”

Her voice was very quiet. “I’m Mrs Fisher-Robinson now. There is no more Miss Fisher.”

“Darling,” his voice was no more than a breath. He reached out and drew her against him. “You will always be Miss Fisher to me.”

Phryne threw her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his. “You really don’t feel that we’re any different, do you? Now that we’re married?”

“You have been the wife of my heart since well before our supposed elopement.” He lifted his head to smile into her eyes. “You are who you are, and that is who I love.”

Her smile, when it came, began in her eyes. He loved to watch it move across her face, sometimes as fast as lightning, other times slow as molasses. This was one of the latter, and he watched as it washed over her, spreading from eyes to cheeks to lips, brilliant with joy.

“I love you, Jack Robinson,” her voice rang with conviction. “And you are wearing far too much right now.”

“Oh, well then,” he said, his hands moving to his waistcoat buttons.

Phryne stepped back, her hands sliding down his chest as she moved. She crossed her hands in front of herself, pulling her blouse up and over her head to reveal the ivory silk of her camiknickers. Jack’s hands paused, taking her in. Her nipples made little points against the bodice, the lace at the edges a blush pink that matched the flush on her chest.

“Don’t stop now, Jack,” she drawled, reaching to push a strap off of one shoulder, then the other. The camiknickers sagged, the silk and lace catching on those hardened nipples, and Jack watched, swallowing hard against the dryness of his throat. He always felt like this with her. It was as if every time was the first time, as if he’d never seen her before, and he was fixated.

Phryne flattened a hand between her breasts, stopping the material’s slow descent. “ _Jack_.” Her voice held a hint of asperity, and Jack’s eyes snapped up to her face. “Naked.”

“Yes. Naked.” He bent his head, a little surprised that he had only got as far as the first three buttons of his waistcoat. He quickly undid the rest and stripped it off, scooping up their other clothes and moving to lay them over one of the chairs on the opposite side of the bed. Maybe if he wasn’t so close to her, he could keep his head about him.

He heard her soft inhalation as he slipped his fingers under his braces to let them dangle at his waist, and with a laughing glance at her, he leaned over, bracing a hand on one of the chairs to pull off his shoes and socks.

“Mmm, Jack, I think you dropped a cufflink there…”

He looked over at her, his eyebrows raised. “I haven’t removed my cufflinks yet, Phryne.”

She gave him a cheeky grin, twirling her finger in the air to indicate that he should turn around. He stood, a smirk pulling at the edges of his mouth, and began unbuttoning his shirt as he turned for her, making a slow circle. When he faced her again, his shirt was undone and he was sliding his cufflinks into his pocket.

 _He has no idea,_ Phryne thought, surveying him in his disarray, _just how beautiful he is._ Her eyes ran from his unbuttoned shirt—he still wore his red tie—down to his unfastened trousers, sitting low on his hips. He hadn’t worn an undershirt today, so she could see his tanned skin with its light dusting of hair that arrowed down from his chest to his navel, then thickened as it reached his groin.

Licking her lips, she continued to watch him undress as she tugged at her camiknickers, pushing them over her hips and stepping out of them. He loosened his tie just enough to pull it over his head, leaving the knot in place. He pulled his shirt off and turned to lay it and the tie over his other clothes. Phryne watched the twist of his waist against his ribs, and the tensing of the muscles in his thighs as he moved.

She removed her garter belt, then shifted to sit on the end of the bed so that she could continue to watch him as she removed her shoes and stockings.

Jack eyed her, loving the way her freed breasts moved with the bend of her back as she tugged off her mary janes; she lifted each leg, her foot and calf muscles flexing as she removed her delicate hosiery. His gaze traced the lines of first one leg, then the other, as he pushed his trousers and smalls down and stepped out of them. He lifted them and turned to lay them out across the rest of his clothing.

Phryne’s arms wrapped around him from behind, her breasts pressing into his back, the hair of her mons tickling against the tops of his thighs. Her hands spread against his stomach, sweeping upward to card through his chest hair, then down again, following the center line of his chest to his navel and lower, until she gripped his cock in both hands.

“Phryne,” he breathed. Her touch was both tender and exciting, and he wrapped his arms backward to cup his palms on her hips while she stroked him. He could feel her lips against his shoulder blades; he laid his head back, resting it against hers, and let her touch him. She played her fingers lightly along his length, tracing the veins that began to bulge as he hardened and lengthened. Wrapping her fingers around him, she pulled from his base to his tip and back down again in long, slow caresses.

“I love the way you feel, Jack,” she whispered against his skin, and he felt her warm breath all up and down his spine.

This time, Jack’s arousal built slowly, and he traced his fingers along the parts of Phryne that he could reach, hoping to bring her with him. She shifted against his back, rubbing her breasts against him; he could feel her nipples hardening, and she arched her back lightly to let just those touch him, sweeping them back and forth across his skin. When his tension began to peak, Jack turned in her arms, bending to lift her and carry her to the bed. He laid her gently against the turned-down coverlet, adoring her with his eyes as he dropped to his knees beside the bed. He slid his hands up the backs of her legs to pull her knees over his shoulders, then leaned in to breathe warmly against her.

“Jack,” she whimpered as he used his fingers and his mouth to open her to his gaze.

“I love the way you taste, Phryne,” he spoke against her, his voice a rumbling tone that she could feel vibrate through her the way you feel a peal of thunder through your skin.

And then he set his mouth and tongue to her and she could only focus on the pleasure. He built her arousal slowly, tenderly, and she arched her back against the bed, her hands going to his hair and her legs bending to set her feet against his shoulders. She kneaded his shoulders with her toes as he licked her and sucked her and pressed first his tongue and then his fingers into her body. She heard herself, as if from a distance, moaning his name and praising his technique and the placement of his caresses. When he pressed two long fingers inside her, curving them to drag the pads of his fingers along the front of her passage with each withdrawal, she gasped. When he added a swirl of his tongue and the suction of his mouth at her clit, she came—long, liquid rolling waves of pleasure that made her point her toes and pull at his hair, and he didn’t stop until she was entirely wrung out.

Only then did he stand, swinging her legs onto the bed to turn her body so that she was fully prone, her head cushioned on the bed’s soft pillows. Licking his lips, he crawled to lie over her, placing his tip at her entrance and bringing his mouth to hers. He waited until she could command her muscles again—when she raised her limp arms to his hips and bent her knees up to give him more room, he caught her eyes and pushed, slow and steady, into her body.

His thrusts could barely even be called that—he pressed his full length within her for a slow count of three, then just… stopped pressing for a similar count. _Press, release. Press, release._ Holding her close, he kissed her, his mouth worshipping hers. _Press, release. Press, release._ He swept a hand up her side to cup her breast, his finger and thumb toying softly with her nipple. _Press, release. Press, release._ She slid her hands down to cup his buttocks, her grip pushing him harder against her with each motion; she raised her hips slightly as well, angling so that his pelvic bone was putting pressure on her clit, too. _Press, release. Press, release._

Jack’s orgasm washed over him at the apex of one of those tiny thrusts, and Phryne felt him shake both within her and against her. The stuttering rhythm of his hips against her clit and the sound of him groaning her name in her ear were what she needed to follow him over, a warm, gentle pleasure that nevertheless had her crying out.

They lay there for a long time, joined and wrapped around each other. Phryne closed her eyes, adoring the weight of Jack upon her, in her, his scent surrounding her. Jack buried his head in her neck, breathing in the smell of perfume and sweat and sex that had become his favorite in the whole of the world.

Eventually, he rolled to one side and Phryne turned to face him, her head pillowed on her hands, her eyes sleepy as he pulled the sheet up and over them both.

“Perhaps just a little nap before we get ready for dinner?” Her voice was sweetly tired, and he reached out to trace the line of her jaw.

“That sounds like an excellent plan. And as I recall, the bathtubs in these suites are big enough for two.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, smiling slightly as she pressed a kiss to its pad.

“Well, then, perhaps we should order dinner up, Mr Fisher-Robinson,” she mumbled with a smirk. “The dining room tables are reputedly quite sturdy as well.”

He chuckled, running his hand down her shoulder to rest his fingers against her bent arm. “In that case, we’ll definitely need our sleep, Miss Fisher.”

“That’s Mrs Fisher-Robinson to you,” she murmured, her eyes closing and her smile soft.

Jack breathed in slowly, moving close to touch his forehead to hers. Happiness welled inside him, threatening to spill over, and he closed his eyes against the prick of tears. “I love you, Mrs Fisher-Robinson,” he whispered, his voice thick.

“Not as much as I love you,” she responded, and he smiled. That was his Phryne, always wanting to come out ahead. With a contented sigh, he allowed sleep to creep over him too, her voice in his ears and her scent in his lungs whispering that of all the places in the world, here with her, he was home.


End file.
